


Twenty Minute Shift

by tinylilremus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, M/M, Sirius is forced to do a twenty minute shift at lush, it does not go well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8703949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinylilremus/pseuds/tinylilremus
Summary: Sirius knows he’s picked a bad day to visit his friend at work when, as soon as he walks in, James all but throws his work uniform at him. Things look up when the only client unfortunate enough to come in looking for a bath bomb while Sirius is on duty turns out to be pretty cute.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been inside a Lush store because we don't have them here in South Africa, but I tried to do as much Google Image research as I could. If things are vague or inaccurate, that's why :P

Sirius knows he’s picked a bad day to visit his friend at work when, as soon as he walks in, James all but throws his work uniform at him.

“Padfoot, you beaut!” he grins as he hastily undoes the ties of his apron, before flinging it into an unwitting and very confused Sirius’ hands. “You’ll never know how much of a miracle it is that you showed up right now.”

“I’m going to regret walking in here once you’ve explained what’s going on, aren’t I?” asks Sirius.

“I need you to cover for me for twenty minutes or so,” says James, confirming all of Sirius’ worst fears.

“God, you see?” says Sirius, screwing up his face in frustration, but nonetheless obediently putting on the apron. “Am I allowed to ask why I’m being forced to do your crappy job on my day off from my crappy job?”

“Hot Red takes her lunch break at this time every day and I’m already late,” says James, practically halfway out the door already.

“This is about Hot Red? You have got to be kidding me,” Sirius growls in frustration. “What if a customer comes in? I have literally no idea what any of this shit is.”

“Relax, Pads. We never get customers at this time of the day,” says James from the doorway. “And if someone does come in, all the information is there on the product labels. You’re a brilliant bullshitter so there’s no need to worry. It’ll be fine, trust me.”

And just like that James is off down the street and Sirius finds himself doing a volunteer shift at a cosmetics store.

 _Not a_ volunteer _shift,_ thinks Sirius as he stares hopelessly at a shelf of bubble baths. _Prongs is definitely going to pay up for this._

He browses the shelves, picking up the odd product here and there to read its label and he’s surprised to find that James is right: all the information he’d probably need is there in black and white. But while the packaging _is_ incredibly helpful, he has no idea how he’s going to retain enough of the information to convince someone that he actually works here. James says that he’s a good bullshitter, but most of that is usually just him going along with James’ bullshit. He’s a bullshit supporter, not a bullshit initiator.

Thankfully, two minutes pass without any customers. Then five. Then ten. At the fifteen minute mark, some of the tension is leaving Sirius’ shoulders. Maybe James is right. Maybe they really don’t get customers at this time of the day. Maybe he’ll be able to hand James his apron back having done nothing more than become better acquainted with ten different types of concealer.

Of course, as fate would have it, it’s not a minute later that a customer actually does walk in.

The man looks around Sirius’ age and looks as out of his depth as Sirius feels and he watches him sympathetically for a moment or two before he realises that if this bloke has any questions, it’s him who has to answer them.

_Fuck._

He pretends to be straightening products on a nearby display while frantically reading their labels, desperate to cram in as much of the information as he can. He’s pretty sure that if the customer is looking for bubble bath, he’ll be able to at least tell him what scents they offer.

 _Perhaps he’ll just browse and leave? Or he’ll find what he’s looking for and bring it immediately to ring it up?_ Sirius knows how to do that at least. Perhaps his function in this whole farce will be nothing more than a friendly smile and someone who presses a few buttons.

He should know by now that he’s never had that kind of luck.

“Er, excuse me?” says the customer and Sirius turns to face him, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. “Hi, er, James? I was wondering if you could help me. Do you know where I could find your bath bombs? A friend of mine tells me that this is where to get the best ones.”

Sirius has no idea if this is true or not because he doesn’t even have the faintest idea what a bath bomb is. His knowledge of bath products are limited to soap, shampoo, conditioner (only because he once dated a bloke who was almost religious about his hair care routine) and, as of two minutes ago, this particular brand of bubble bath. He toys with one of the bottles, hoping that the movement catches the customer’s eye and he changes his mind about what he’s looking for.

No dice. The customer is watching Sirius expectantly, completely ignoring his brilliant distraction tactic and Sirius realises that he’s actually going to have to use words at some point if he wants to help James keep his job.

“Er, they’re…” he scans the shop for any kind of sign or label that would point him in the right direction but there seem to suddenly be thousands of little boxes and bottles that weren’t there before and Sirius feels like he’s drowning in shower gel and moisturiser. Out of the chaos, however, his eyes suddenly lock onto the words ‘bath ballistics’. _Bingo._ “They’re over here.”

He leads the way to a shelf containing plates and bowls of rock-like stars and spheres. He’d glanced curiously at them earlier but had decided to stick to learning about products he knew a thing or two about already, figuring it was easier to add to his existing knowledge than to try to learn new things in such a short span of time.

Sirius is beginning to regret every single decision he’s made since waking up.

“Whoa, this is pretty intimidating,” says the customer, eyes roving over the colourful display. “What would you suggest?”

This is it. This is the make or break moment. This is where his story either sells or completely falls apart. Where he manages to pull this off or gets James fired. And it’s at this point that Sirius looks into the customer’s deep brown eyes and completely unhelpfully realises that he’s pretty cute.

“I, er, don’t actually know, to tell you the truth,” he says, while his brain screams, _STOP BEING HONEST, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON._ Fuck, he has to fix this, but he’s far too distracted by the customer’s adorable sideways smile and how soft his tousled brown hair looks.

“You work here though,” he says as his brow creases. “Surely you have some kind of recommendation? Or, I mean, at least know which ones are the most popular?”

 _Shit. He’s cute frowning too. I wonder if he’s… No. Focus, Sirius._  

“I’m new,” says Sirius. “Like brand new. First day on the job actually.”

The customer now looks really confused.

“But it says ‘manager’ on your name tag,” he says, pointing to the small lime green rectangle pinned to the apron. Sirius glances down and sure enough, it reads _‘JAMES - MANAGER’_ in neat black capital letters.

“Ah,” he says. “Yeah I, er, just got transferred from another store.”

“And they don’t have bath bombs at that one?” asks the customer.  He looks midway between amused and annoyed and even though Sirius realises that he’s treading on very thin ice, he holds out hope that the man isn’t going to rush home to write a nasty email to the company head office.

He’s just reaching for the nearest product he can find to read its label when he hears the most beautiful sound he’s heard all day.

“God, sorry I’m late,” says James bursting through the door. “On the plus side though, I got Hot Red’s number and her name. It’s Lily Evans. I told you it would be something pretty and elegant.”

“Wait, you’re friends with Scruff-And-Specs?” the customer asks Sirius, and he stifles a giggle at the nickname. It’s so fitting. The man looks horrified as he turns to James. “And god, Lily actually gave you her number? Even though you call her _‘Hot Red’?_ ”

“Yeah, well not to her _face._ In any case, Sirius, who’s this bag of laughs?” asks James. Sirius shrugs, suddenly wishing to be far away from whatever’s happening now.

“I’m Lily’s best friend, Remus,” says the customer, now practically seething. “And who the fuck is Sirius?”

“I’m Sirius. No joke,” he says, taking a stab at humour. Judging by the unamused glare on Remus’ face, it hasn’t worked. Things really are going from bad to worse and all Sirius wants to do now is go home, far away from the horrific sitcom he seems to have accidentally wandered into.

“You’re James, though. It says so on your tag,” says Remus, puzzled.

“No, _that’s_ James,” Sirius replies. “The tosser made me take his shift so he could make googly eyes at your mate.”

He knows he’s throwing James under a bus, but he’s too annoyed at being dragged into this situation to care. He can’t imagine how much more frustrating it must be for Remus. He didn’t ask for any of this. He just wanted to buy a bath bomb.

“True story,” says James with a sheepish grin and Remus gives him a look of utter contempt before turning back to Sirius.

“God, no wonder you were so useless,” says Remus, a lot gentler now. “This really _is_ your first day.”

Sirius shrugs and he’s suddenly aware of how lame his arms must look dangling next to his sides. He hastily shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I, er, I’m still looking for a bath bomb,” says Remus with a small smile. “Care to help me look?”

“The _Strawberry Sparkle_ one comes highly recommended,” offers James and Sirius knows he’s trying to get into Remus’ good books after his careless ‘Hot Red’ comment now that he knows that he and Lily are friends.

“Nope, not listening to you – you don’t have an apron,” snipes Remus and Sirius has to bite back a laugh as James scoffs indignantly.

“I’ve been working here almost two and a half years now. I’m extremely responsible and hardworking. ” he says and looks to Sirius for help. “Padfoot, tell him.”

“A bath bomb, you say?” says Sirius, turning to glance at Remus, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the corners involuntarily as something mischievous glints in Remus’ eye.

“Fine,” huffs James. “I was only off to text Lily anyway because now that I have her name and number I don’t have to chase her down at lunch or refer to her by a nickname that was just a convenient description of how she looks and not an indicator of the respect I have for her. Which is a lot. I respect the fuck out of her. I’m going to text her right now to tell her that I respect the fuck out of her.”

Remus and Sirius can barely contain their silent giggles as James stomps to the pay point and they turn back to the bath bomb display.

“Honestly though, James is a really great guy once you get to know him,” whispers Sirius once their quiet laughter has subsided. “He’s a little reckless and impulsive at times, but he’s really kind and loyal. Your mate is in good hands.”

“I know she probably is. I mean, he’s been leaving her sweet little encouraging  notes for weeks, so he can’t be that bad,” mutters Remus, before his face breaks into a smirk. “You can’t deny that it’s fun to rile him up a bit though.”

“No, it’s been brilliant,” grins Sirius. He glances over at James who’s now furiously tapping away at his mobile. “He’s really been leaving her notes? He hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Yeah, he writes them on receipts and drops them next to her while she has her lunch,” smiles Remus. “They’re always cheesy things like ‘you look so beautiful today I forgot how flowers look’ or else just telling her that she can do anything she puts her mind to. The kind of thing that makes you wonder when you’ll find a bloke who’ll do that for you, you know?”

Wait - bloke? Oh. _Oh._

Suddenly bolstered by the knowledge that he might be in with a chance, Sirius nods understandingly, shifting ever so slightly closer to Remus under the guise of getting a closer look at one of the products.

“So, er, what are you looking for?” asks Sirius, his eyes scanning the colourful spheres and stars.

“Well, someone who isn’t afraid to do cheesey little romantic things like receipt notes; someone who doesn’t mind listening to me ramble for hours and hours about bodies and criminal cases and law proceedings; someone who won’t make me choose where to eat because I’m probably the least decisive person on the planet when it comes to food. And, you know, it wouldn’t hurt if he was an underwear model or something.”

Sirius barks a laugh at this and the corners of Remus’ eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“That’s all great, Remus, but I was actually talking about the bath bombs.”

If Remus was cute before it’s nothing to how he looks with colour flooding his cheeks and a little grimace of embarrassment fixed to his features. Sirius realises with a jolt that he’d be more than happy to fulfil any and all of his requirements. He’d probably quite comfortably parade around cameras in his jocks if it made Remus happy.

It’s a terrifying thought, but oh so lovely.

“Fuck, of _course_ you were,” says Remus, looking like he’s willing the Earth to swallow him. “Just… fuck. Anything that isn’t _Strawberry Sparkle,_ I guess, because the mate of mine I’m buying it for is allergic and the smell makes her ill.”

“Duly noted,” says Sirius, picking up a nearby star-shaped one. “Er, for what it’s worth, I’m looking for a bloke who doesn’t mind being dragged to see obscure rock bands at all hours of the night, someone who doesn’t mind getting around town on the back of a bike, someone with a sharp sense of humour and a filthy mouth. And, you know, it wouldn’t hurt if he was conveniently here next to me so that I could ask him if he wanted to grab a coffee after this.”

Remus is staring at him, completely speechless, and Sirius doesn’t know enough to tell if this is a good or a bad thing.

“Unless you’re really holding out for that underwear model?”

“N-no, I’d love to,” stammers Remus. “Go to coffee for you, that is. I mean, go for your coffee. Fuck, I mean…”

“Remus,” says Sirius, placing a hand on his forearm to stop him and gesturing to the bath bomb display, “just choose one of these damn things so we can go.”

“This one,” says Remus, picking up a bath bomb from the plate nearest to him.

“Don’t you want to check what you’ve chosen?” Sirius cocks an eyebrow in amusement as he rushes to pay for it.

“Don’t care,” says Remus, though he stops at Sirius’ words. “Actually, fuck, I do. Hold on.”

Remus scans the product label with a small frown of concentration and Sirius wonders how their paths might have crossed if he hadn’t decided to visit James that day and finds himself grateful that he doesn’t need to know.

“It’s called _Let’s Get Fizzical_ and it looks like it’s grapefruit scented. That works.”

He all but throws it down on the counter and James scans it, looking a cross between amused and nervous with a bias towards the latter. To Sirius’ delight, Remus is still glaring at him throughout the whole transaction.

It’s only after the bath bomb is in a gift bag with a gift card thrown in for good measure that Remus’ face relaxes into a friendly smile.

“Thanks, James. Tell Lily I say hi and that I’ll see her later,” he says. “I have a date with the hot temporary manager and I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”

“I… what?” asks James and the only thing that Sirius finds better than his confused look is the fact that Remus thinks he’s hot.

“Thanks for the shift, mate.” Sirius grins as he hands James his apron back. He’s pleasantly surprised when he feels Remus’ hand slide boldly into his. Beaming, the two of them head for the door, leaving a gaping James behind them.

“Hey, hang on, does this mean we’re even?” James shouts just as Sirius follows Remus out the door. Sirius pauses and turns back to look at him.

“Oh no, not even close,” he says, and then after exchanging a shy smile with Remus, he adds, “but it’s a start.”

It’s a start.


End file.
